


Soul for you

by 0Sion0



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Error in love with an idiot, Fluff, I blame "Our Tangled Web" for this, Ink knows he's an idiot, Love/Hate, M/M, Romance, Trust, and they're both fine with that, as far as it's even possible for them?, but it's still intimacy, so you are warned, souls fusion, this is not smut, well kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:15:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25167571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0Sion0/pseuds/0Sion0
Summary: Error hadn't expected to let him get this close. He didn't think he would allow himself to be touched. He couldn't have imagined that he would think about wanting more himself. But he couldn’t change his feelings, and he didn't really want to. So if his soul was so eager to be with the Artist, why not give it to him?
Relationships: Error/Ink
Comments: 20
Kudos: 208





	Soul for you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Avatarkayla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avatarkayla/gifts), [Raithwin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raithwin/gifts), [ToasterTale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToasterTale/gifts), [ShandyCandy278](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShandyCandy278/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Our Tangled Web](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21418183) by [Avatarkayla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avatarkayla/pseuds/Avatarkayla), [Raithwin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raithwin/pseuds/Raithwin). 



> Okay, first of all - Raithwin, Avatarkayla, it's all your fault! Specifically, chapters 56 and one sentence from it. Which one, I think, you will understand quite quickly. And just so you know, this is the most embarrassing thing I've write. Ever! (This work is originally Russian and is available here: "[Душа для тебя](https://ficbook.net/readfic/9617203)".)
> 
> Second... Toasty, if you're reading this, just promise that you'll survive. That's the least I ask. 
> 
> And one more thing that I just must to say - Happy Birthday, Shandy! I know this wasn't meant as a gift for you, more like revenge on those two bastards, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. ) At least I hope it's good enough to even _be_ a gift, especially for such a great writer and friend like you.
> 
> Thanks Crescent Moogle for the beta-reading.

The Ink's soullessness never bothered Error. Of course, it made it harder to fight him, not being able to get rid of the Guardian so easily or take control of him, but other than that, he didn't think it was anything strange or creepy. He saw everything around him as abominations, and if it came to strangeness, it was not for him to judge. He was a real anomaly himself, and had always been at the top of this list.

So the Destroyer didn't care. He didn't care that without the paints, Ink was just an empty puppet that could terrify even the Lord of Nightmares. He didn't care that those paints made him an irritating and annoying idiot who refused to leave him alone, and he certainly didn't care that without a soul, the Artist couldn’t return his feelings.

Strange, stupid feelings that Glitch at first tried to ignore, forget, or eradicate, but his own quite extant soul was never stable and, like himself, absolutely refused to obey anyone — even its owner. It beat faster every time the Guardian forgot about Error’s personal space and got too close, pulsing with a soft warmth and sending out uncontrollable bursts of magic. 

In the end Error had to admit it: he liked Ink. No, even worse, he wanted him. He wanted him only for himself, and the Destroyer decided that he would get the bastard, even if he had to tie him up and drag him to the Anti-Void by force. It wouldn’t be the first time he'd kidnapped someone, although it's fair to say that keeping the Artist in place would be a more difficult task than quieting Blueberry. However, this time, his favoured strings were not required, because when the Guardian heard such an impudent demand, and then somehow cleared his throat of the ink, he literally hung on Glitch's neck.

Ink was ready agree to everything, as long as he could be around, and he said it himself with only one misgiving about all this idea:

_“You know I don't have a soul. I want to be with you, and I can pretend for you, but it will never be love. Would you really be satisfied with that?”_

Instead of an answer, the Artist was tied up, and Error irritably waved away that he already knew this, and that he loves himself enough to love for both of them. That was the last conversation on this theme. Soullessness could weigh down any relationship, but the Destroyer had known Ink too long, too well, and had accepted that his essence wanted him exactly the way he was. Among other things, Glitch was ready to accept all the strangeness, the oddity, or even obsessions on his part.

The Guardian had many obsessions, but the vast majority of them came down to Error. Mostly, it was a desire for contact. It could be anything — a simple touch, joint activities, lifting the ban on something that previously the Destroyer didn't tolerate and had forbidden — the Artist was ready to jump with delight at any opportunity to feel or learn something new about his opposite, and literally melted if the Glitch gave in to him. Of course, it took a long time for the other to loosen his inner barriers and persuade the soul, that made him dizzy with love, to allow this love to be near and not send waves of pain and trembling through his bones from every excessive touch, but in the end he was able to overcome himself and enjoy the closeness too.

This was not without Ink's hard work. The Guardian never was very tactful and had no personal boundaries, but it was only with Error he was willing to slow down. Only with him he did show miracles of patience and caution. Only with him he was gentle and consistent, even if he managed to combine these traits with just as much suffocating insistence and impudence. But it was precisely because of this delicate approach that the Destroyer was able to forgive him so much. He learned to trust and learned that contact can bring not only pain, but also pleasure, to the considerable joy and relief of both of them.

Even after making so much progress, there was one thing that especially attracted the Artist: the one thing that he didn't have, and therefore couldn't control his craving for. However, it was also the only thing about which Error was adamant.

To the first request to see his soul, Glitch responded by destroying almost a dozen universes. After the next few requests, he always made a row. Then Ink stopped asking, apparently finally writing it down on his scarf. But Error still continued to catch awkward, wary glances at his chest, at the interception of which the Guardian hastily turned away and tried to pretend that nothing happened. The unfortunate question still hung in the air, pressing down on the Destroyer with its invisible existence.

This was not the first time this had happened. Sometimes, it seemed to him that his stupid soul conspired with the rainbow asshole, because every time the Artist mentioned some silliness that Error furiously refused, his mind would immediately fixate on the obtrusive idea, returning to it again and again, even if Ink had already forgotten the matter and why he was suggesting it. It began with the Glitch trying to list all the reasons why he was against it, but in the end he often exhausted his own arguments and usually agreed to try just once; just to close the subject and shut down the annoying inner voice, or rather, voices that didn't calm down until they were sure to make him burn with shame for their own amusement.

But in all that concerned his essence, Error was true to himself, and was in no hurry to be led so easily. Yes, he admitted that he was in love, admitted that he wanted the Guardian around, but was he ready for more? Was he ready to trust so much and let him get so close? Not just to demand the Artist for himself, but also to share something intimate, in the same way offer for Ink to own _him_. The Destroyer hesitated. It was too big and important a decision to make so thoughtlessly, and he hadn’t given in.

It wasn't easy to ignore all those provocations, but if there was anything stronger than his irascibility, it was his stubbornness. It took several months, but in the end the voices calmed down, Ink forgot, got distracted, and the Glitch felt the long-awaited peace and comfort without the already-bored encroachments on his soul. However, when the pressure from the outside finally subsided, the Destroyer's own curiosity awoke, and that was the thing which was much more difficult to repress.

Error had heard about matters of the soul too much, but knew very little. And even if he had boasted otherwise, he doubted it would apply to him and his situation. His soul wasn't like a normal one. Only a tiny fragment of it was real, and everything else was more like a projection or hologram. A pale shadow of a once-whole being, and only a pitiful memory of its former form. Like any shadow, his soul couldn't be touched. Fingers just sank into the barely palpable magic, harming it in no way, but the shard was sensitive. A tiny piece that survived. And it was for it that the Destroyer was most concerned.

To let someone see it was madness. To let them know how badly he's broken and wrecked, or even worse — to allow the idea that he was weak because of this. He wasn't! If it came to that, his soul was the strongest one, resisting almost all magic or encroachment, and also quick to erase any extraneous code from itself. But this stupid subconscious fear continued to grow inside, taking root over time and fueled by echoes of shame that even his infinite self-confidence couldn't cope with. He never doubted his appearance, but his soul… It was different. And to give it to a soulless being was doubly insane.

But maybe that was the reason that Ink was the only one with whom Glitch could even for a second think about it. The asshole was soulless, and it was definitely not for him to judge! He wouldn’t be able to blame him, he wouldn’t be disappointed, and most importantly, he would never begin to pity him. He knew that part of the Guardian all too well. He just wouldn’t care… And although he usually avoided this thought, for it was an unpleasant tingle in the back of his mind, in this case it was a surprising consolation. Almost encouraging. And really, what did he have to lose?

Just his own pride, and only that. Because the Destroyer couldn't even remember when the Artist had reacted negatively to any of his revelations. On the contrary, he was attracted to anything unusual, and, as Ink himself admitted, he agreed to this relationship because Glitch never tired of surprising him. Even years later, the Guardian never got bored with him. In a way, it was flattering, and once again encouraged Error to try. And if the idiot did manage to pull something off, he can always threaten to leave him in the Anti-Void for a week or two. The Artist almost couldn't stand his dimension, or being alone, so it remained a universal threat for all occasions.

Still, Error wasn't sure until the last moment. Trust was terrifying, and at the same time it attracted, wanted to be justified. And he could start small, right? Just show Ink, after spending a few hours on a lecture of the rules and, to be sure, immobilizing him — or else who knows what could happen? Once Ink threw up from an unexpected kiss, and Glitch definitely didn't want that filth to get on his soul or something. Even if the ink just went through, the Destroyer could really do without such an experience in his life. It's enough for him that he decided to do it at all.

Ink, on the other hand, was almost over the moon with happiness, and excited accordingly. He kept fidgeting in the strings, and Error even had to take the paint sash away from him, so that the Guardian didn't die prematurely from an overdose of yellow. And pink, for that matter. Eye lights periodically flashed hearts, the Artist stupidly smiled and continued to tremble in growing anticipation. He had often had the pleasure of seeing his opponent without clothes before, but his soul was always hidden behind glitches, even when he was asleep, letting out only a small glimmer of blue, so Ink really didn't know what to expect.

Glitch didn't know either. It was extremely rare for him to allow his essence to show itself, usually only if it was in pain and he had no choice but to perform a full scan. But this time he was filled with very different feelings and even more so with different intentions. Fear and a strange flutter mixed as he let his hand leave his chest and pull the blob of magic behind him, freeing it from his ribcage. The glitches cleared up a bit, and the recognizable shape of the inverted heart became clear behind them, although it wasn't stable. The soul continued to flicker, disintegrating into pixels, then coming together again, and at other times completely disappearing for a moment, which made Ink jump nervously a couple of times.

The Destroyer felt the movement only through the strings. His gaze was also fixed on the soul, but he didn't want to raise it. He had seen the colors the Guardian had drunk, and could imagine the reaction, but something in him still protested. It was as though if he raised his head and met the other's eyes, which must have taken some strange shape, he would finally accept what was happening. Like a child who is sure that as long as he doesn't look, then no one sees him. But It never worked as it should.

The Guardian remained quiet for a suspiciously long time, which only served to inflame the situation. Error was ready for some screeching, at worst for laughter, but not for the fact that the Artist, who is usually impossible to shut up, would not utter a sound. The small tremor in his hands got worse when Glitch found the strength to look at his opponent, but as soon as he did, the already prepared indignation literally stuck in his throat and made him choke on what he saw.

Ink's face expressed… admiration. He regarded the clump of static as the greatest treasure in the world, next to which even breathing was considered a luxury, and the destroyer would have sworn that he had never seen a more genuine emotion in the Guardian. Maybe it was inspired by the light colors, but there was something else about it, an unaccustomed warmth that made the soul miss a beat, burning the palms of its hands with random flashes of magic. And it only got worse when the idiot finally bothered to open his mouth.

“This is amazing. Error, you… I… I've never seen anything more exciting than this! It's so… Hah, I can't find the words! And I'm an artist! It's just… indescribable,” he gasped, then awkwardly laughed, but it wasn't the kind of laugh that Glitch was afraid of.

Not the acrid and biting mockery that cuts pain and betrayal to the core, but the very light and bright smile, at the sight of which the magic always flowed to Error's cheeks, and a pleasant shiver descended all over his body. He would never have admitted it, but he liked to see the Guardian like this — drowning in a colorful blush, stuttering on his own words, and lost in a mess of emotions, so much so that his usual foolishness just had no place. But it was even better to realize that Ink was becoming so _because of him_. That he could arouse in the Artist this embarrassed admiration, which was perhaps the closest thing to love that he could offer.

This turned into a new burst of magic, and the Destroyer felt the shard in the ghostly shell burn, resonating with the sound of the other's voice and responding to every word. The energy flowed through his bones, trying to find a way out and even more flooding his skull with color, so that the blue bands of the strings became almost indistinguishable, lost in an equally blue blush. This flow grew stronger and stronger, and it almost physically hurt to hold the soul like this, but at the same time, on the periphery of his mind he thought of pressing his hands as close as possible, closing it in his palms and calming the itching magic, even if he knew it was useless.

It won't work, no way. His essence can't be touched, and usually this thought was pleasant and relaxing, at least slightly dampening his main phobia, but now it turned into annoyance and acrid disappointment, much to the surprise of Glitch himself. And the Artist's still intense attention didn't help, leaving a tingling sensation wherever his gaze lingered, as he passed over the blob of magic again and again, trying to fix in memory every, even the most insignificant detail.

But the Guardian couldn't help it — he really didn't want to forget this. Maybe he could draw it? He would have been happy with the opportunity, but he was afraid to make a mistake with the question. Ink vaguely remembered that souls were something extremely personal, and much more clearly remembered the Destroyer's reactions to any request for it in the past, so he didn't want to risk it again. Even if he had to literally bite his tongue to keep this creative impulse from breaking loose. Maybe later. Of course, he could have done it in secret, but it was better to wait for permission. Error had not yet forgiven him for _those_ sketchbooks, and the Artist doubted that enough time had passed to test his boundaries again.

Especially when he had already allowed him so much. The Guardian was truly fascinated, unable to take his eyes off the flashing heart that so suited its owner. Unique, absolutely special, and unlike anything he had ever seen before. He couldn't even decide which was better — the soul itself or the Glitch's expression at that time. He didn't remember such vivid emotions in Error! This made Ink itch again to take the notebook and make at least a couple of sketches, but he restrained himself as best he could, content to let his curiosity run free.

“Do souls always beat so fast?” The Artist asked with interest, and didn't miss the strange bustle on the part of the other's essence, which seemed to only increase the longer that went on. “And wow, I can feel the heat even from here! Are you sure this is normal?” He was a little doubtful, especially when the Destroyer flinched and turned away, blushing even more. Were those freckles on his cheeks? He was sure he had seen spots of yellow. Like the stars!

“There is nothing normal about my soul. And actually it's all because of you, you idiot,” Glitch muttered, but there was not enough venom in his voice to make it an accusation.

At first, Ink didn't understand what it was supposed to mean. Because of him? Did he do something wrong? But then it seemed to hit him, and it was the Guardian's turn to lose himself in embarrassment. _Because of him._ Just the thought of this made his magic boil with excitement, and he wouldn't mind another shot of pink right now. He looked at the soul again, and the strange pull came back, stronger than ever before, making him raise his hand as if in oblivion. The unfortunate question was out of his mouth before the Artist had time to realize it, let alone hold it:

“Can I…?”

“NO!”

Because of the simple and barely begun gesture, Error seemed to be scalded and electrocuted at the same time, and he immediately jumped back, breaking the distance by almost a dozen meters in an instant. The strings clenched convulsively, making Ink wince from the bite of pain, and the blob of magic hastily disappeared behind the black bones and the eternal swarm of glitches, putting an end to the trembling moment.

“N-not this time,” the Destroyer managed to say, when he was able to calm his breathing and unstable errors.

“There will be next time?” Replied the Guardian, who had already become upset and cursed his own lack of restraint, which was clearly in vain, because the answer was a confused glitchy squeal with vowed promises that Ink would not see his soul even the corner of his eye, mark his words!

But despite all the assurances and very plausible threats, the next time happened.

Glitch honestly hoped that after the first time, their shared curiosity would be quenched and quieted, but instead he came across a wish for more. Not immediately, at first everything really calmed down for a long time, but then the intrusive thoughts again filled his head, fueling his interest with far from repulsive memories. Error remembered that look full of adoration, the almost genuine happiness on Ink's face, remembered his own embarrassment. He again and again felt the echoes of the heat that permeated his body, and that ghostly desire for contact.

The fantasy was full of such images that the Destroyer even wondered whether someone was sending them to him. In involvement in this, he couldn’t imagine Nightmare, but Dream, on the contrary, he interrogated with ferocity. The Light Prince didn't please him with a confession of guilt, but when the blue strings finally loosened, he stunned Error with a statement that such wishes couldn't be sent at all. Real love wasn't beyond the competence of the twins for no reason — it was too deep and complex a feeling, unique for each individual being. So even if it wasn't so difficult to imitate falling in love or seducing someone, no one would be able to force to share the soul in this sense.

Glitch wasn't sure if this revelation calmed him down or scared him more. Because if he had no lack of practice in rejecting others, then there were certain difficulties with rejecting himself. Not to mention the atypical nature of the wish itself. Error was used to taking what he wanted, but what if he wanted to give something away? And this is not some puppet or chocolate bar that you can just unceremoniously throw in the face of a particularly pleasing monster and leave without explanation. It was too personal, too embarrassing, and the rainbow asshole didn't deserve this kind of favor from him at all! But his subconscious feelings continued to bend their line, and finally prevailed in a fierce battle of the mind.

But before that, common sense reaffirmed itself, so as with the last time, Ink was preliminarily bonded and instructed, and the usual lecture lasted almost twice as long. But this didn't add to the Destroyer's calm, and he was justifiably nervous, especially because they had to sit much closer, and the Guardian's hands had to be freed. Fortunately, he kept them to himself yet, too intrigued by what was happening to ruin everything ahead of time — even if for this he had stock up on liquid patience in a particularly large dose. But it was definitely worth it.

At the first glimmer of bluish light, the Artist let out a beatific sigh, but almost immediately held his breath, enjoying the sight of the soul in the hands of his opposite. This time he saw it up close and could see even the smallest details, which had previously been difficult to notice due to the surrounding glitches. Even slightly dispersed, they never disappeared and continued to flash around as a restless flock of pixels, knocking attention and not allowing him to explore the view completely. But from this distance, they were no longer a problem, finally allowing him to see everything in detail.

The thin translucent shell was distorted and looked like an old TV screen, but its light seemed soft and gentle. It was slightly tighter around the edges, giving the soul its shape, though it couldn't hold it without fluctuation for more than a couple of seconds. But the most interesting part was a little deeper, and Ink had to stifle another sigh. Quite tiny and easily invisible, if you didn’t look closely, there was a piece in the soul that no longer looked unreal. It was the densest and darkest in the entire blob, like a shard with rough, sharp edges, and the Guardian swallowed involuntarily as the magic in his own chest responded with a painful deja vu.

He didn't know what Error had to go through, that his essence became like that, but even without understanding anything about souls, this was unlikely to be normal. The Artist still saw the embodiment of others’ magic as something beautiful, but now he had a vague idea why Glitch protested against this idea at first. He wasn't sure if he should ask about it, but any questions were instantly lost when, after a pause of uncertainty and doubt, the Destroyer frowned and with grim determination pushed the soul a little closer to him. This took the Guardian by surprise, and he was taken aback, earning an extra irritated growl at his address. And when it came to him, he almost choked on the ink.

“Are you sure? You so easily _untie my hands_?” Ink asked, moving his palms slightly, but not trying to raise them. He wrote down how the last time ended, and didn't particularly want a repeat. Glitch instinctively twitched on this, but didn’t appreciate the joke.

“If you do something stupid — I'll strangle you,” he said seriously, snarling and pulling the strings tighter around Ink’s neck vertebrae. Although this hardly had the expected effect, it only made the Artist more excited. However, Ink didn't plan to lose his head so soon.

So, having received this peculiar but final permission, he returned all his attention to the soul, and finally stretched out his hand to it, but hesitated at the last moment. He had no experience of it, and he hardly knew how to do it. Error himself held his hands directly under the soul, allowing it to float above them, and the Guardian decided to start with that, opening his own in greeting. The Destroyer shivered a little more at the gesture, but clenched his teeth and nodded, carefully releasing the ghostly heart from his grasp and letting it land in other's hands, while realizing that this was the point of no return.

Glitch felt this moment very clearly. It seemed as if the connection to his magic had been severed, only to return the next moment, but now with an extraneous energy surrounding it. Error, of course, had come into contact with Ink's magic before, both in battle and in more intimate settings, but he had never felt it _like this_. And for a few minutes it made him extinguish his eye lights, teetering on the edge of rebooting and desperately trying to get used to this unusual condition.

The Artist also felt the flow of extraneous and extremely unstable energy, but he, in turn, didn't have time to process it properly, because he was distracted from the soul by the state of its owner. He noticed it not only because of the errors that filled the black bones, but also as if from within. The Destroyer's essence glitched at the same time as he did, sending a bright and almost painful pulse that burned the Guardian's fingers for a moment, but he didn't risk letting the soul go, not knowing what would happen to it then. And since he was still tied up, there was nothing he could do while Glitch struggled with such a sudden, but fortunately brief seizure.

“Error, you…”

“I’m fine,” he said, maybe a little more sharply than he had intended.

In fact, the Destroyer had expected something like this and wasn't very surprised. But for all the foreignness of the sensations that assailed him, they were not unpleasant in themselves. No, actually the opposite. As soon as he caught his breath and listened to the incoming signals again, his bones shook again, but this time for a completely different reason.

To feel another's magic swirling around his core and gently supporting him was something incredible. When he did it himself, the soul was just perceived as an extension of him, and there was nothing special about it. But now every pulse resonated with the Artist's energy and seemed to echo, slowly syncing and turning into a completely new type of pleasure. It wasn't intense or overwhelming, but like light stroking that wasn't really touching and caressed his magic on some intangible level. Error could only guess if Ink felt the same way.

The Artist also needed a few minutes to make sure everything really was fine, but soon the bulk of the glitches subsided, and he could pick up where they left off. Ink didn't know how much he was allowed, so he tried to keep an eye on Glitch, while he deliberately, slowly moved one of his hands until it was almost touching the soul. The Destroyer tensed, but despite expectations, there was no protest. Encouraged by this, the Guardian reached for the very edge of the bluish shell, but as soon as he cut the last millimetres and tried to touch the indistinct shape, his eyes dilated and froze in exclamation marks in another shock. The ink tickled his throat again, but he swallowed hard, trying to digest the new ambiguous fact.

Ink had heard and even seen once or twice that pulled out, souls were quite material, but he had not felt his fingers touch anything. No, in fact, they fell inside the translucent heart without hindrance, passing through it, at which the Artist drew back his hand in surprise and questioningly stared at Error again, meanwhile hoping that this didn't go over the edge. Glitch did look very embarrassed, still trembling slightly and unable to control the darkening blush, but he only laughed at the Guardian's astonishment.

“You won't hurt me with this. The outer part is just a projection,” the Destroyer explained with a slight shrug, though it was hard to tell how he felt about this fact.

The statement didn't sound smug or very happy, but it wasn't particularly negative either. This was something that Glitch had long been used to as normal, although he was well aware that this was never the case, and this was one of his many anomalies. But unfortunately (or for his luck), Ink was a sucker for anomalies.

“You don't feel it? I mean, at all?” The Artist was surprised, curiously trying again, a little more confidently, and letting his fingers sink deeper. He felt the same warmth, growing into heat, but only that. Otherwise, it was no more real than touching fog. And it didn't look like Error had any reaction to that, even though he kept his eyes on Ink’s knuckles, intently watching every movement.

“No. I mean, in a way, I _know_ what you're trying to do, and I can feel the impact of your magic, but it's…” Glitch tried to find the closest analogy, but his thoughts blurred until he remembered about the blue threads that wrapped Ink from head to toe. “It's like feel something through my strings. If you pull them or cut them off, I'll know, but it doesn't affect me personally. I know it's not how souls usually work, but…”

He turned away and wriggled, trying to figure out where the strange pressure had come from. He was… ashamed? Not quite, but something very close. And Error froze a little when he suddenly realized that the other's opinion mattered to him. He didn't want to disappoint, not meet expectations. Even if he had no idea what Ink or he himself might expect from all this. But if he wanted to allow him to touch his soul, isn't it implied that this touch should at least be possible? Well, that was a timely thought. Because a second later, happened something that was definitely beyond any expectations.

It was like an explosion — too sudden, too overwhelming, blurring everything and leaving only pure, unclouded bliss. Even in moments of passion and pleasure, the Destroyer had to overcome his phobia. He simply ignored the biting glitches, letting the pleasure take over the pain, but this unpalatable itch always remained somewhere on the very edge of consciousness, to remind of itself sooner or later. But not now. On the contrary, for a moment it seemed to Error that all his glitches had subsided and completely disappeared, which had never happened to him. Or rather, it was as if their perception had simply been turned off, suppressed by a different and much stronger sensation.

His magic flared brightly, drowning him in the warmth of a wave and leaving him a gasping mess. Did he scream? He wasn't sure. All extraneous sounds were also turned off, and his vision wrapped in haze, though this time it wasn't the errors that obscured it. There was not a single coherent thought left in his mind, and the Destroyer was cut off from the world as if he had been hit by another reboot. But if that was the case, then it was the best one that had ever happened to him.

When reality came back to him, the first thing that broke through the fog in his head was Ink's overly agitated face. Scraps of blue strings hung from his clothing, but they no longer confined the Guardian, although he was in no hurry to shake or touch him, much to Glitch's relief. Error blinked, and the image became a little clearer, although he still didn't want to get up, just lying there and blankly staring in front of him. Was the idiot crying? He was also fast and unintelligibly muttering something, but it took the Destroyer a few more minutes for the sounds to clear as well.

“…rrysorrysorrysorrysorry! I should have asked! But I didn't think you would… Does it hurt? I thought I was being careful, but you suddenly… I didn't know this would happen, honest!”

This whole tirade made Glitch's skull ring, and he grimaced as he tried to think of the easiest and quickest way to shut up the bastard. Fortunately, it was found, and, gathering himself a little, Error forcefully tightened the strings still under his control on the neck hidden behind the scarf, this time with more strength, effectively silencing the hapless Artist.

“First of all, stop whining,” the Destroyer growled without malice, carefully rising up and simultaneously regaining coordination. “Second, I told you I was going to strangle you! And third, what the hell was that?!” He demanded an explanation, reluctantly loosening the few remaining restraints and noting with annoyance that the strange but actually heartwarming feeling was beginning to fade.

“S-sorry,” Ink said for the thousandth time when he was allowed to speak again. One hand was still fully within the soul, and the other rested on his chest and nervously rubbed the cyan vial, which, apparently, had already been used. “I wanted to check, well,” he hid the frozen drops in his eyes and paused, trying to find words before simply blurting out: “if the shard can be touched. I mean, it didn't look like a projection, and I just thought that if… I thought you didn't mind, b-but I didn't expect your reaction would be so…” At this point, the Guardian sharply blushed and almost completely hid his head in the scarf, but it was a different kind of shame. His cheeks glowed with a bright rainbow even through the tears, and although it was not easy to embarrass the Artist in _this_ sense, Glitch managed it suspiciously often. He had to gulp and push the tempting image out of his mind before he could finish: “And then you blacked out. And I was afraid.”

The Destroyer frowned at this disjointed explanation, and it took him a while to fully understand it. But something he realized made him stifle an indignant sigh. This idiot really-… but was it even possible? Okay, to be honest, he never _tried_ it himself, but so easily… Error threw a suspicious glance at the soul that still rested in a not so firm grip, but was in no hurry to leave the other's hand, seemingly completely satisfied with its current position. But Ink didn't look that way anymore.

His hand was wide open, so that his fingers were as far away as possible from the blob of magic, almost _too_ far. The Artist's magic still seeped through the thin and weakened invisible contact, but now it seemed to shun him. And Glitch suddenly didn't like it.

“You… Rainbow asshole! How many times have I told you to warn me first?!” he snapped, trying to control his irritation, but more importantly, to suppress the distortions and glitches in his voice, before slightly lower adding: ”You're damn lucky it was good.”

“Wha-...?” The Guardian paused from his sobs to stare at his opposite, as if he had fallen into a mini-reboot too.

With the new paint in his system, life was looking bleak, and he was already convinced that he had screwed up, and in a big way. He even took a sip of guilt, and now he was counting the seconds before the Destroyer would take his essence back and never trust him with it again. And that's what it cost him at least once to hold his damned curiosity?! Now, however, it seemed that he had misunderstood something.

These suspicions were only reinforced when Error scowled and reached for his paint sash, pulling out three vials. White, yellow and pink. A silent request to change the mood. And even if Ink usually didn't allow anyone else to choose the colors for him, and he preferred not to switch so abruptly, this combination assumed that the other wasn’t as mad at him as he thought.

“I didn't know it would happen either. No one before you… I've never…” the Destroyer broke off, hardly finding a moment when his voice would obey, and said as briefly as possible: “I liked it. So stop crying and do it again.”

For a couple of minutes, Ink just blinked, letting the symbols change without stopping. He couldn't believe what he had heard, or his own happiness. Then he took a taste of yellow, and it got a little easier to believe. But he was still eerily slow, even sluggish, while he returning his hands to where Error wanted them to be. Cautiously, he moved deeper into the bluish glow until he felt the first signs of density, and paused again for a moment. In this area, the magic was much more concentrated, and it took shape more and more, until his fingers finally stopped passing through, bumping into the last remaining piece. It was hot. Alive. The Guardian had realized this even during the first touch. But then he did something silly and went straight on, forgetting himself as usual. Now, however, he stopped, before gently sliding along the very edge of the sensitive magic, exploring every roughness and chip, but at the same time keeping his attention on the Destroyer, ready to retreat at the first word.

Glitch spared a moment to appreciate the change, but he wasn't going to stop right now. At first it had taken him by surprise and unsettled him, but now he knew what to expect, and didn't let this capture him so easily. Pleasure flowed down his bones in hot sparks, but they no longer blinded him, even if there wasn't much he could do in this state. Error just wanted this to continue. This closeness of a loved being, this attention and tenderness that was desired far more than he had ever admitted. The strokes shifted slightly to the center when the Artist found out that one chip could be passed through, and just as carefully ran over it, and the Destroyer almost whined. The bastard was good with his fingers… Error should have remembered that.

“Is it really that good?” Ink asked curiously, and Glitch frowned at the question, but the hint of seriousness in the other's eyes made him bite his tongue, especially when the Guardian suddenly continued: “Am I… doing this right?”

The Destroyer squinted through the haze of sensation, trying to understand why he was so confused by these words. It was… not in Ink's style. He was rarely so focused and attentive to something. And for some reason, these traits only appear when drawing or in situations like this, but were completely ignored in all others. This often irritated Error when he tried to get the Artist to be more serious, but now it only showed how important for him this particular moment was. He wasn't the only one afraid of ruining it. And somehow that thought made Glitch blush even more than the warm resonance that permeated his magic.

“I don't know what is considered ‘right’ in this case. But for now it's not bad,” he said a little awkwardly, allowing himself to think about it again.

Although he had heard enough about all these souls things, he really didn't know anything specific. The rumors were too abstract and vague, almost certainly exaggerating in half the cases and omitting in the other. And the Destroyer never went into a detailed analysis, stopping at the knowledge that for him this information was still useless. Although some of those stories were repeated often enough to claim authenticity — something about trust and candor, and also sharing emotions and feelings. But…

Error opened his eyes with an effort and doubtfully glanced at the Artist. Ink looked brazenly engaged and definitely enjoyed the contact, but it didn't seem the same as what he was experiencing. This pleasure was more conscious, a reaction to the fact that he was allowed all this. But even though Error felt the interweaving with another's magic, he couldn't tell how mutual it was. Usually it was a game for two… But if he simply wasn't sure he was capable of such a thing; in Ink's case it was much more certain. There is no soul, so there is no chance to experience it.

And for the first time in their attempt at a relationship, it seemed to Glitch unfair. The Guardian's soullessness had never bothered him, never got in the way, never been a problem. But everything changed when he wanted to give the same bliss to him. Give him back those warm feelings, even if in their pair only he really loved. The Destroyer didn't know what hit him, but this hole in the Artist's chest he desperately wanted to fill.

And maybe he could do it? The eye lights involuntarily returned to his own soul, which was melting from the caress in other's hands. Broken, distorted, wrong. But in spite of everything, real, feeling, and even capable of love. So why couldn't he share all of this with the one whom his soul had chosen for itself?

The crazy idea was faster than the voice of reason.

“Stop. Let me go,” Error demanded sharply, twisting around and forcing Ink to hastily pull his hand back.

His gaze turned to question marks as the Guardian tried to figure out what he had missed again, but instead of retreating in accordance with all expectation, the Destroyer suddenly approached and literally leaned on him, with force, pinning the Artist to the floor. Even before he could utter a startled cry, his t-shirt was just as abruptly lifted.

“Whoa! And what about 'warn me first'?” Ink smiled, not so disappointed at the change of plans anymore. They could play like that as well, and fortunately, on this field he had much more experience and confidence. But the Glitch had something else on his mind.

“Shut up and don't move,” he scowled, at which the Guardian obediently froze, already used to this kind of request.

Every time Error want to try something, but wasn't sure he could handle it, he made the Artist stay put — often without his consent and using strings. But this time the words were enough, and allowed the Destroyer to fully appreciate the view below him. He stared at the space beyond the scribbled ribs and felt as if he were looking into an abyss. There was no soul, just a haze of raw magic. Dark and engrossing, it looked like a black hole, and looking at it gave him the feeling that always haunted the Reaper. The cold aura of death, reminding that Ink wasn't a living being in the common sense. Only an empty shell. And usually they avoided this — not because it was somehow unpleasant, they just didn't care. Error had his anomalies, Ink had his — and this was the joint norm.

But it wasn't as simple now. The Glitch didn't think through the consequences. There was only an unstoppable pull and an irrational desire to be closer, which in his case took the form of a particular absurdity. But he had already gone too far to back down. He wanted Ink. Completely, entirely, and only for himself. And he was going to get the jerk, even if it was the last thing he did in this life!

Determination bubbled up inside him, putting an end to all doubts, when his soul flashed a bright blue light, and then slid into the alluring darkness. The moment frozen in silent expectation… For something. And for an equally brief time, it seemed that nothing had happened. But what took place next was comparable only to the split of the whole Multiverse.

Ink's eye lights went out. His ribs burned from the inside, impaling them with a powerful stream of magic, and the Artist arched, involuntarily pinning him closer to the Destroyer looming over him. His mouth opened in a soundless scream, but not in pain. He didn't know what he felt. Everything was mixed up, as if he had drunk all the colors at once, but unlike his own paints, his body didn't try to get rid of other's magic, on the contrary, it almost greedily pounced on it. And while the paints lingered in his system for a relatively short time, this flow didn't stop. Glitch's soul was a fathomless well in which he threatened to drown while he tried to take a drink. Too much. Too unexpected. Too strange. Somewhere in this mix passed a shadow of fear, but he didn't want to stop it.

There was no place for such a thought. Or rather, any hint of it was ousted by the other's overwhelming desire. And it was just as strange. The Guardian knew a lot about obsessions, but he never experienced someone else's obsession on himself before. Wishes flowed through him like another color, but he couldn't figure out which one it was. This emotion was not unambiguous and stable, like his paints, instead it seemed to change its own hue as it went, but came back to him again and again, turning into an incomparable pleasure. Something very vaguely resembled pink, but it was not a bright passion, this feeling was much more subtle and tender. And if there was any way to describe it, Ink would say that for the first time he felt… complete. Accepted by someone who was so perfect for him, and who allowed him to experience something so amazing.

A real opportunity to feel a living soul inside him. It's not like he never had such an idea, or that he'd never tried it, but it never worked. Other's souls didn't want to belong to him. But this one did.

It was burning in this desire along with its owner, who was not spared by this. If simple contact with other's magic was pleasant, then being completely surrounded by it in the very center of its concentration was driving Error crazy. Especially when his own energy suddenly flowed into the stream and spilled over the white bones, bringing back the echo of sensation. The perception was stratified, as if he really felt for both of them, making him remember his own statement from the distant past. Now those words had irrefutable proof, even if such a deep fusion was a little frightening. The Destroyer had never felt more vulnerable, but at the same time more protected than ever before. And if Ink could protect the whole Multiverse, then he could save his tiny shard of soul, right?... For some reason, Error really wanted to believe it.

With that thought in mind, he closed his eyes and snuggled closer to the Guardian, on whom he already sprawled, shifting a little to find a more comfortable position. Glitches lazily flickered across his form, but they were powerless to ruin the moment. Besides, the Destroyer was surprised to find that they didn't feel so bad from the outside. Not a painful itch, but like a slight vibration. No wonder Ink was so thrilled every time he allowed himself to be cuddled or accepted a hug. And of course, the Artist enjoyed this position no less.

Although, when he recovered from the initial shock and took another look at what had happened, an evil grin appeared on his face. Error flinched, suspicious, but there was no way of stopping the Guardian.

“Oh, my… I know you like being _inside_ me, but this is something new,” he said thoughtfully, not missing such a tempting chance. And he couldn't help but laugh as the Destroyer's essence leapt in indignation, sending an embarrassment independent of the paint through his magic.

“One more such comment, and I'll lock you in the Anti-Void for at least a month,” Glitch promised darkly, rising just enough to meet the impudent Artist's gaze.

In response, Ink brightly smiled, knowing that the threat wasn't serious, and had already opened his mouth to respond, but Error abruptly leaned forward and cut off any prepared stupidity with a demanding kiss. After a few hot minutes, he slowly pulled back and looked at the dazed Guardian with a certain amount of complacence, silently nodding to himself.

 ** _This_** was the easiest and quickest way to shut up his bastard.


End file.
